《W.A.L.L.》


 Chapter 1: Reincarnated

    A dagger plunged into the center of my chest with chilling precision.


    Another found its mark in my groin¡ªa merciless strike.


    Two more blades tore into my left thigh and quadriceps, carving deep and leaving a crimson trail in their wake.


    The fifth dagger pierced my right knee, its cruel edge slicing clean through and emerging on the other side in a grotesque display.


    The sixth blade slashed across my left shoulder, sending a fresh wave of blood spilling down my arm.


    The seventh embedded itself in my left foot, punching through even the steel-plated boots, nearly severing my toes.


    But the eighth and ninth¡ªthose were the real killers. Twin blades that ripped through my abdomen, carving wide, jagged gashes that nearly merged into one.


    That was the level of brutality wielded by the Thirteen Months¡ªGloria¡¯s most feared enforcers.


    And yet, even as I lay there, rain drenching my battered body, I couldn¡¯t quite believe it.


    Me. Ash Wyvern. The most feared assassin in Gloria. Hunted down and cut apart like this.


    But I didn¡¯t go down without a fight.


    Four of them. That¡¯s how many I took with me.


    The other nine? They stood around me, catching their breath, exhaustion written all over their faces. Some had dropped to their knees, others had slumped down onto the wet ground, barely able to stand. Pathetic.


    I was the one dying here. Not them. And yet, they were the ones gasping for air.


    The thought alone made me chuckle, the sound weak but laced with amusement, even as blood pooled in my mouth.


    Even at death¡¯s door, I still made them struggle. Gloria¡¯s strongest force. And they looked like this?


    Yeah¡­ I¡¯d say I did just fine.


    January, standing right next to my head, caught my faint chuckle. He clicked his tongue in irritation, pressing his foot against my throat.


    ¡°What¡¯s so funny? Nine of Lucifer¡¯s Claws aren¡¯t enough to finish you off?¡±


    Silence.


    Then, from the nearest wall, April let out a long, exaggerated sigh.


    ¡°Maybe we need the other four,¡± he mused, his sharp voice dripping with malice.


    I tried to shake my head, but my body barely responded. ¡°Well¡­ considering I¡¯ve been cursed for three years now,¡± I murmured, my voice barely more than a whisper, my bloody grin unwavering, ¡°I¡¯d say¡­ nine should be enough.¡±


    January wasn¡¯t amused. He kicked my head this time, his brows furrowing.


    ¡°Wipe that damn smirk off your face! You¡¯re on your deathbed¡ªshouldn¡¯t your miserable life be flashing before your eyes right now? Does that make you smile?¡±


    Hah¡­ Unbelievable.


    Even with one foot in the grave, he still had to bring up that topic.


    How were these guys the kingdom¡¯s elite? Seriously¡­ unbelievable.


    Ignoring the throbbing pain, I slowly¡ªpainfully¡ªraised my right hand, fingers trembling as they reached for the golden bracer around my left wrist.


    This bracer¡­ my so-called savior.


    It had suppressed my magic ever since I was cursed, stretching my life out just a little longer. A temporary solution at best.


    But now?


    Now, it didn¡¯t matter anymore.


    My fingers unlatched the bracer. I felt the shift immediately¡ªan ominous surge of magic bursting free.


    Still grinning, I bared my bloodstained teeth.


    ¡°Yeah? Then tell me¡­¡± I rasped, letting the bracer fall to the ground with a dull clink.


    ¡°Are you guys seeing your life flash before your eyes?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    For a brief moment, January looked confused.


    Then his eyes flicked to my now-bare wrist.


    Then to the air around us, thick with a suffocating magical pressure.


    Then¡ªpanic.


    His green eyes went wide.


    ¡°RUN! RUN, ALL OF YOU!¡± he bellowed. ¡°He¡¯s gonna go berserk!¡±


    No hesitation. No second thoughts.


    They ran.


    I could feel their magical presence retreating, scattering in all directions.


    Heh¡­ too late.


    They were already within my reach.


    The air grew thick¡ªsuffocating¡ªunder the sheer weight of my unleashed magic.


    In an instant, all nine of them were crushed to the ground, their bodies pinned as if the very air itself had turned against them.


    They couldn¡¯t move.


    They couldn¡¯t even breathe.


    But I wasn¡¯t done.


    As they struggled, gasping like fish dragged onto land, I drew in everything. Every trace of magical energy in the atmosphere, every last drop from the ground, from the rain, even from their own bodies. Their life force seeped into me, their resistance fading to nothing.


    And then¡ª


    I let it all go.


    A single, unstable surge of pure void magic erupted outward.


    The shockwave tore through them before they could even scream. Their bodies were flung into the air, limbs severed, torsos shredded¡ªreduced to nothing more than scattered remnants.


    They didn¡¯t even get the mercy of a final cry.


    Their lungs had already been robbed of air.


    And just like that, the Thirteen Months were gone.


    I let my body fall back onto the ground, the cold rain now tainted red, washing over me along with the ruins and debris of the battlefield.


    It was over.


    Ash Wyvern¡ªGloria¡¯s greatest assassin¡ªhad wiped out the kingdom¡¯s strongest force before dying.


    Yeah¡­ if tomorrow¡¯s newspapers were to print that, I¡¯d say it was fitting.


    I could die in peace now.


    And yet¡­


    Why?


    Why was I targeted?


    I had served Gloria with unwavering loyalty. I had done their dirty work, spilled blood in their name. I never disobeyed. I protected them.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    I did everything they asked.


    I knew I had enemies. That was a given. An assassin always does.


    But none of Gloria¡¯s royalty should have been among them. That much, I was certain of.


    So why?


    Why did the Thirteen Months¡ªa force that only the royals could command¡ªcome after my life?


    It didn¡¯t make sense.


    It just didn¡¯t make sense.


    Ahh¡­ I couldn¡¯t feel pain anymore.


    My vision blurred, colors fading into muted grays before dissolving into pure black. The cold raindrops that had once washed over me? Gone. I couldn¡¯t feel their icy touch against my skin anymore.


    Yeah¡­ I guess this was it.


    Goodbye, life.


    As crappy as it was, I¡¯d definitely be remembered, right? Right?


    All that was left to do now was brace myself for the inevitable drop into hell.


    ¡­


    ¡­


    ¡­


    ¡­Wait.


    It was still dark?


    Not just dark¡ªit was¡­ quiet.


    And more importantly, I wasn¡¯t cold anymore.


    Moments ago, I¡¯d felt like a frozen corpse, like someone had shoved me in an icebox and forgotten I existed. But now? Now my body felt strangely warm. Too warm.


    Hold on.


    Did I even have a body anymore? Maybe I¡¯d already become a spirit or something. That would make sense, right?


    ¡­No, I definitely had a body.


    I could feel something soft pressing all around me, sinking slightly under my weight. It was smooth, a little ticklish, and just¡­ weirdly slippery?


    Afterlife massage? With oil?


    Not bad. Not bad at all. Whoever was running this section of hell deserved an A+. If this was eternity, I could die with that.


    Though, uh, one complaint.


    Legroom.


    It was way too tight in here, my dude. You gotta work on that.


    Just as I was about to settle into my supposed VIP treatment, a sudden gust of cold wind rushed in from below¡ªa sharp contrast to the warmth surrounding me.


    The hell?


    I forced my blurry eyes open, barely able to make out what looked like¡­ a tiny gate? A gap, opening beneath me, like the very light at the end of the tunnel.


    Oh.


    Was this their grand welcome? Give me five minutes of paradise before dropping me straight into the abyss?


    Man, no fun. That A+ just dropped to a B.


    Wait¡­ voices.


    I could hear voices.


    Women¡¯s voices. Two of them.


    One of them? Screaming her lungs out.


    The other¡­


    Huh. I couldn¡¯t hear her clearly, but something about her tone was calm. Familiar, even. And¡ª


    Wait.


    She was speaking Glorian. My native language.


    That was¡­ unexpected.


    Well, at least when I got down there, I wouldn¡¯t have to struggle with some weird demon tongue. Small wins. Maybe we could even catch up, trade some hell survival tips or something.


    Yeah. This might not be so bad.


    The gap widened.


    Hmm¡­ Judging by its size, I could probably take a quick peek at whatever was out there, right?


    Yeah¡­ bad idea.


    My head felt way too big for the hole. But luckily, it was stretchy.


    Brrrrr.


    The moment my head slipped through, a sudden cold breeze smacked me in the face. Wait, wasn¡¯t I supposed to be heading to hell? Shouldn¡¯t it be hot? Like, ¡°lava bath and eternal torment¡± hot?


    No time to dwell on that, though¡ªbecause holy hell, that woman¡¯s screaming just got a hundred times louder.


    Was she the Banshee Queen or something?


    Whatever she was being tortured with, I just prayed I wouldn¡¯t get the same treatment.


    But then, amidst the shrieking, I finally heard the other voice.


    A firm, commanding one.


    ¡°Come on, keep pushing!¡±


    ¡°You can do it, keep going!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s it! I can see the head coming out! Just a little more¡ªpush!¡±


    ¡­


    Wait.


    Hold up.


    Come again?


    ¡°¡­I can see the head coming out?¡±


    My head?


    Oh.


    OH, HELL NAH.


    This wasn¡¯t some ordinary afterlife. This was a freaking summoning ritual!


    Those two must have been succubi, and they were trying to drag me into some demonic torture chamber. Nope. Not happening. Not today.


    I tried yanking my head back. Big mistake.


    Not only was I too weak to pull myself in, but whatever the hell was surrounding me was actively pushing me out.


    For every one centimeter I managed to pull back, I was shoved five more centimeters forward.


    What the heck?!


    Why must I suffer like this?!


    Crap¡ªmost of my body was already out.


    The screaming lady hadn¡¯t stopped, and honestly, at this rate, I was gonna lose my own vocal cords instead of hers.


    ¡°That¡¯s it! Just one leg left!¡± the firm woman announced.


    Then, with way too much excitement, she added, ¡°You! Make room for the newbie!¡±


    Oho? Making room? FOR ME?! IN WHERE, HUH?!


    I BET IT¡¯S A DAMN LAVA POOL.


    Oops.


    My last leg slipped out.


    But¡­ I didn¡¯t fall?


    Instead, I felt something warm and soft¡ªlike I was being cradled.


    ¡°You did it!¡± the firm woman sighed in relief, while the Banshee Queen finally stopped screaming.


    At last.


    Now that the ungodly noise had ceased, I finally took a good look at my surroundings.


    And yeah, this didn¡¯t look like hell.


    Not even a little.


    The room was bright¡ªway too bright.


    How many magical lanterns do they have in here?!


    And when the lady said, ¡°Make room for the newbie,¡± did she mean¡­ this giant bath?


    The moment I came out of the ¡°dark abyss,¡± I was met with warm, fragrant water.


    Two women were giving me a bath.


    ¡­


    I just hope I don¡¯t get hard.


    Wait, what the hell are they wearing?


    Their clothes looked like they were made of blue paper or something.


    And now they were wrapping me in a towel?


    I mean, I wasn¡¯t complaining, but hell wasn¡¯t supposed to be this comfortable.


    ¡°A perfect, healthy baby!¡± the firm woman declared proudly.


    Wait.


    What?


    She took me in her arms and walked toward¡ªoh.


    A bed.


    With a woman lying on it.


    A woman who looked like I had drained the life out of her with my magic.


    She looked exhausted. Sweaty. Worn the hell out.


    And then the lady handed me over to her, smiling.


    ¡°Congratulations, Mrs. and Mr. Lapis!¡±


    ¡­


    ¡­


    ¡­


    Hold the hell up.


    I wasn¡¯t dead.


    I was reincarnated.


    And judging by the high-quality treatment I was getting¡­


    This was a royal delivery room.


    Which meant¡­


    That slippery darkness¡­


    That tight, suffocating tunnel¡­


    Yup.


    That was the Banshee Queen¡¯s vagina.


    ¡­


    Well.


    At least I finally got inside one.


    Here I was.


    Cradled in the arms of the Banshee Queen.


    Ahem¡­ New Mom. Yeah, New Mom sounds better.


    If you ignored the eyebags, the yellowed skin from all that¡­ pushing, and the overall ¡°I-just-fought-a-war¡± look¡­


    Yeah¡­


    She was actually a treat for the eyes.


    Green eyes¡ªbig, round, and vibrant. Long, straight blonde hair that looked silky as hell. Perfectly clear skin. A round, cutie nose. Naturally red cheeks that made her look like a doll. And that styled bang resting perfectly on her forehead?


    Absolute perfection.


    Even with her exhaustion, she still smiled at me.


    A tired yet warm and welcoming smile.


    As if to say:


    ¡°Welcome.¡±


    ¡­Yeah, she was stunning.


    Then, New Mom lifted her head toward the two ladies who had just delivered me.


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± she said in a barely audible voice. A huge contrast to the way she was screaming her lungs out earlier.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t newborns supposed to¡­ you know, cry?¡±


    One of the women stepped closer and gently tapped my head.


    ¡°Some babies are just silent watchers,¡± she said with a soft smile. Then, she turned to the side. ¡°Mr. Lapis, if your wife or the baby need anything, don¡¯t hesitate to call us, alright?¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± a deep but incredibly soft voice responded.


    And then¡ªwhoop! I was suddenly in someone else¡¯s hands.


    New Dad, huh?


    Okay, hold on.


    Can you people stop passing me around like a damn relay baton? I just got here! Let me breathe!


    But fine. Since I was here, I might as well scan New Dad.


    Sharp features. His jawline? Cut like a blade. Cheekbones? Defined as hell.


    Ocean-blue eyes framed by a pair of thin glasses. And his black hair? Wavy. Slightly messy but in a stylish way.


    Yup. New Dad was hella fine too.


    ¡°Sorry, Elza,¡± he said, lips teasing a gentle smile.


    ¡°I think someone else stole my heart at first sight.¡±


    New Mom¡ªElza¡ªchuckled softly.


    Blugh¡­ Leave me out of your cheesy romance, thanks.


    Then, she gazed at me lovingly and spoke:


    ¡°Welcome to the world, Lina.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± New Dad added, holding me a little closer. ¡°We¡¯ll cherish you forever, don¡¯t worry.¡±


    ¡­


    ¡­


    Well, damn.


    Looks like I really hit the jackpot with this reincarnation.


    Lapis, huh?


    Yeah, I could live with that as a family name. It had a nice ring to it.


    But Lina?


    Come on. Lina?!


    Think about it¡ªI was Gloria¡¯s greatest assassin. A living nightmare that haunted the shadows. I had a name that sent shivers down spines.


    And now?


    I got stuck with Lina?


    Sounds like some innocent little village girl who plays with flowers and cries over stubbed toes. Not exactly fitting for an ex-legendary killer.


    Ugh. I¡¯d definitely file a complaint the moment I could start talking.


    But for now¡­ I guess I¡¯d just have to deal with it.


    Still, something felt off.


    In my past life, there was something I cherished above all else. More than my scythe. More than my magic.


    A set of two great jewels and a big pipe.


    They were with me wherever I went. A source of pride. My identity.


    But now?


    Nothing.


    I didn¡¯t feel them at all.


    Weird.


    Even if they were small, I should be able to sense them at least a little, right?


    Maybe I should just take a quick look¡­


    ¡­


    Oh.


    Oh.


    Oh.


    Now I get it.


    There was nothing there.


    ¡­


    Sigh.


    I wasn¡¯t just reincarnated.


    I was reincarnated as a girl.

 Chapter 2: New World

    Do you not grasp the gravity of my presence here?


    I am Ash Wyvern!


    Once revered as the greatest assassin and executioner in all of Gloria! The kings and princes themselves sought my services for their most unspeakable deeds. My name alone sent shivers down spines, a whisper in the dark that meant only death.


    And yet, here I was¡­


    Locked in an unwinnable battle.


    Before me stood my greatest adversary yet¡ªa spoon, carrying an abomination disguised as food. A mound of green mush that mocked my very existence.


    I slammed my tiny fists against the armrest of my chair, rattling the table in defiance. The mere audacity of this situation was insulting!


    And yet¡ª


    They laughed.


    MOCKED!


    My new parents, my so-called caretakers, the people responsible for this indignity.


    Enough!


    My gaze burned with silent fury as I narrowed my eyes at the spoon-wielding woman before me. New Mother.


    Must I endure this vile substance again?


    Surely she understood the consequences should she persist!


    Yet, there it was¡ªthe cursed spoon, approaching without hesitation.


    No, no, no! Stay back! I twisted, turned, resisted, but¡ª


    New Father.


    His hands¡ªgentle yet firm¡ªheld my head in place. The perfect countermeasure. The ultimate betrayal.


    And then¡ª


    The spoon struck.


    The horror entered my mouth.


    My body betrayed me. I swallowed.


    ¡­Unforgivable.


    ¡°Very well... I whispered darkly (Or maybe I just did a cute squeak), lowering my eyes.


    You have forced my hand.


    I opened my mouth and took a deep breath¡ª


    And unleashed the wail of a thousand suffering souls.


    Tears flowed. Cries echoed. The very heavens would tremble at my anguish.


    ¡­


    Or so I had hoped.


    New Mother merely chuckled. New Father smiled in amusement.


    ¡­Tch.


    These two weren¡¯t ordinary parents.


    I had underestimated my enemy.


    This war was far from over.


    I gotta say, this new life started off¡­ unexpectedly.


    I mean, compared to Gloria¡¯s quiet nights, where only the flicker of magic lamps kept the darkness at bay, this world was a chaotic whirlwind of noise, light, and strange sensations¡ªeven for a baby like me.


    Yeah, let me explain.


    Back home, a newborn¡¯s life was simple. They thrived solely on their mother¡¯s milk, a perfect, unquestionable source of sustenance. No experiments, no weird mixtures. Just pure, natural nourishment.


    Here? Everything was different.


    New Mother¡¯s milk was warm, familiar, comforting¡ªa taste that felt right in a way I couldn¡¯t quite explain.


    And I gotta admit, being fully aware that I was drinking breast milk felt¡­


    Heh heh.


    ¡­Let¡¯s move on.


    Then there was formula.


    A strange, artificial concoction they forced upon me. Some were sweet and pleasant, a taste that danced on my tongue. Others? Blugh. They lacked the elegance of moonlight, tasting more like a cruel joke played on my existence.


    Like that green sludge from earlier.


    Unforgivable.


    And then, there was magic¡­ or rather, the lack of it.


    In Gloria, magic was everything. It thrummed in the air, woven into life itself. You could feel it beneath your skin, whispering to those attuned to its call.


    Here? Nothing. Not even a flicker. It was gone.


    Instead, there was something called "electricity."


    And holy hell, was it weird.


    Glassy spheres bathed rooms in constant light, never flickering, never dimming like magic flames. A flat surface on the wall conjured moving images that shimmered like mirages. I nearly lost my mind the first time I saw that.


    HOW. HOW DID IT DO THAT?


    And that wasn¡¯t all. Electricity could heat water, power strange contraptions, and even let faraway voices travel through a small handheld device.


    I had to admit¡­


    It was kind of amazing.


    Still, the absence of magic left an ache in my soul. A yearning for the familiar.


    And yet, a part of me couldn¡¯t help but be fascinated. Electricity, with its silent hum, its unseen power, was a different kind of wonder.


    Perhaps, in this strange new world¡­


    Magic still existed?


    Maybe I just had to open my tiny eyes a little wider¡­


    And find it.


    ¡°Lily, let¡¯s try a trend, shall we?¡±


    New Mother¡¯s voice, laced with a hint of mischief, pulled me from my milk-induced trance.


    Ugh¡­ I was so comfortable, too. Do they have to disturb my royal nap time for their little experiment?


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Apparently, my parents had decided to engage in what people in this era called a "trend."


    Translation: A scientific experiment where they tested my reactions to random objects. Fantastic. For them.


    And today¡¯s lucky test subject?


    A place they called the "bathroom."


    I schooled myself: Show no surprise. Stay detached. In my past life, emotional indifference was a weapon, a shield that kept me invincible. It had served me well before¡ªno reason it shouldn¡¯t now.


    But¡­ curiosity flickered in me when they placed me in front of something strange and smooth.


    I reached out. Cool. Solid.


    ¡­A mirror?


    Huh. This was probably my third time seeing one. The only other times had been when I was summoned before the queen in Gloria and when I glimpsed my reflection in water.


    But this? This was different.


    For the first time in this new life, I truly saw myself.


    And¡ªwell, damn it all. I had to admit it. Even trapped in this squishy, baby-sized body¡­


    I looked good.


    Long, wavy hair cascaded past my chubby cheeks, a mix of blonde with streaks of deep black. Fortunately, I had a normal forehead. Thank the gods¡ªI wasn¡¯t about to become one of those tragic, high-forehead victims.


    But my eyes¡ªnow those were the real show-stealers.


    One emerald green, just like New Mother¡¯s.


    The other a deep blue, mirroring New Father¡¯s.


    A perfect fusion. Predictable. Clich¨¦. But undeniably striking.


    I tilted my head.


    A familiar glint of mischief flickered in my mismatched gaze¡ªAsh Wyvern¡¯s spirit, alive and well.


    Oh, just you wait, world.


    I may be a mere baby now, but in a few years? Hearts will shatter. Jaws will drop.


    Lina Lapis isn¡¯t here to play¡ªshe¡¯s here to conquer.


    ¡­Wait.


    That sounded way too seductive.


    Am I gay?


    Damn it, I need to get used to this whole "being a girl" thing.


    Haaaa¡­ What a pain.


    The first few weeks of this new life were¡­ a revelation.


    Gentle hands rocked me, warm voices cooed my name¡ªa stark contrast to the cold, ruthless existence I had once known. It was almost disorienting, this thing they called¡­ love?


    Elza¡ªNew Mother¡ªwas especially chatty. She would talk to me endlessly, her words a constant stream of warmth, even though my current vocabulary was strictly limited to "Dada" and "Mama."


    I appreciated the effort, really. But let¡¯s be honest¡ªshe was probably just trying to drown out the monstrous roars of the iron beasts that rampaged past our windows every day.


    Seriously, what was with those things?! Their metallic shells gleamed under the sun, their wheels screeching against the pavement like banshees.


    So noisy. So annoying.


    I had no choice but to clamp my tiny hands over my ears every time one of them passed by. Can¡¯t a baby get some peace in this world?! I¡¯d already died once, and now I had to suffer this on a daily basis?


    Twice a week, Elza would bundle me up and take me outside¡ªwhere the nightmare only worsened.


    The chaos of this world was overwhelming. The sheer cacophony of honking vehicles, the dizzying rush of wind, the blinding lights that flickered from strange, glowing signs¡ªit was all too much. I clung to her tightly, a tiny explorer lost in a world too big, too fast, too loud.


    But the worst betrayal?


    Elza couldn''t always be there.


    Five days a week, she vanished into the abyss known as "work."


    She called it "being an accountant." Something about numbers and ledgers? I had no idea. What I did know was that this cruel world forced mothers to abandon their young.


    ¡­Truly, a barbaric civilization.


    I expressed my protest with a disgruntled gurgle.


    (Or maybe it was just gas.)


    Thankfully, New Father, Bruno, picked up the slack.


    Unlike Elza, Bruno was a quiet type. Stoic, composed, his deep voice rarely wavering. He worked only two days a week, which meant he had plenty of time for cuddles and stories.


    Apparently, he was some sort of "bean sack dev"?


    No, wait¡­ "Full-stack developer."


    Yeah, that.


    Elza assured me he worked hard from home the rest of the time. Though, from what I observed, his "work" seemed to involve a lot of sitting at a desk, muttering curses at a glowing screen.


    Still, despite his quiet demeanor, when he held me in his arms, his usual cold expression softened. A warmth bloomed in his gaze, like I was the most precious thing in the world.


    And that?


    That deserved a reward.


    So I gave him my biggest, drooliest grin.


    Sometimes, in a fit of excitement, I might have even¡­ accidentally kicked him in the face.


    ¡­Oops.


    But if he weren¡¯t my father?


    Let¡¯s just say, in another life, I¡¯d be dropping my diaper for him.


    Too bad we can¡¯t.


    And for a man, Bruno¡¯s cooking was¡­ shockingly good.


    Every evening, the air would fill with the most mouthwatering aromas¡ªsavory stews, sizzling meats, warm, buttery bread.


    Did they remind me of anything from my past life?


    Nope.


    But who cares? They were delicious.


    And every time he fed me, he¡¯d flash a mischievous smile and whisper,


    ¡°You need to keep this a secret between us. We don¡¯t want our lovely Maria to get mad, right?¡±


    Ah, Bruno, compared to Elza, you were spoiling me rotten.


    He¡¯d sway me on his lap afterward, his deep voice weaving stories of his whirlwind romance with Elza and this new home of ours¡ªAlaranta.


    He clearly envisioned me as some elegant, refined young lady.


    And me? I let out a gurgle of agreement, the picture of an obedient daughter.


    ¡­Yeah. That wasn¡¯t happening.


    I mean, let''s face it, I was destined to become a tombgirl troublemaker who wouldn''t give a damn about dresses and makeup.


    Sorry, Bruno.


    Ding-Dong!


    The doorbell rang, breaking the moment.


    I raised my head to the clock. Huh?


    Too early for Elza to be back.


    Bruno, still holding me in his arms, walked toward the door.


    Then he¡­


    HEY. HEY. HEY!


    Who gave you the right to balance me on one arm while opening the door?!


    Hello?! That¡¯s less lap space for me! Injustice!


    ¡­Whatever.


    The door swung open, revealing a man standing on the other side.


    And whoa.


    He looked just like Bruno.


    I mean, for real for real.


    Same face, just more buffed up. The only real difference? A beard and no glasses.


    Bruno smirked. ¡°Welcome back, Romeo. Finally returned from Krow?¡±


    The man¡ªRomeo, apparently¡ªnodded.


    And then, to my absolute shock¡­ he started tearing up.


    ¡°¡­Yeah. I¡¯m sorry I missed her birth.¡± His voice wavered as he reached out his arms toward me. ¡°Hi there, young lady! Oh, aren¡¯t you just the cutest!¡±


    Oh no.


    No no no no.


    Bruno, you wouldn¡¯t.


    You wouldn¡¯t just hand me over like some kind of prize, RIGHT?!


    ¡­And there I go.


    Now I was officially in Romeo¡¯s arms, being cradled like a shiny new trophy.


    Romeo rocked me gently, his voice soft. ¡°There, there. You really are a silent little angel, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    I¡­


    Well, I mean¡­


    Ugh.


    Damn it. I liked this.


    I even found myself playing with his short beard, tugging at the bristly strands absentmindedly.


    And that, dear readers, was how I met my New Uncle.


    Romeo Lapis¡ªBruno¡¯s older brother, spitting image, and certified beard-having big guy.


    Pleasure to meet ya!


    I stayed in Romeo¡¯s arms while he and Bruno settled into conversation.


    Apparently, Romeo had spent 2 months working at some fancy academy called Kaiser in a faraway country called Krow.


    Did I care?


    Not in the slightest.


    Because something else was far more interesting.


    Romeo felt¡­ warm.


    And no, not body warmth¡ªthis was different.


    It wasn¡¯t spiritual. It wasn¡¯t emotional.


    Then what the heck was it?!


    The more I focused on him, the more I noticed it¡ªsomething swirling inside him. No, it was clinging to his skin as well.


    A mist.


    Not mist¡ªenergy.


    A blue, faintly glowing aura, lightly clinging to him like a second skin.


    Was I seeing things? Hallucinating?


    I reached out, tiny fingers grasping for that ethereal mist.


    Nothing.


    No sensation. No resistance.


    But I knew it was there.


    I could see it.


    And just as I was about to think deeper¡ª


    WHOA WHOA WHOA!


    Romeo suddenly rocked me in his arms!


    Geez, could you NOT?!


    I swear, if I had the words, I¡¯d rat you out to Bruno.


    ¡­Wait.


    Where was Bruno?


    I took a little sniff. That warm, savory aroma¡­


    Ah. Kitchen.


    Yeah, I was alone with Romeo now.


    He peered at me for a long moment, his brows slightly furrowed, his mouth slightly agape.


    Was he¡­ shocked?


    Then, in a hushed voice, he whispered,


    ¡°Do you see something, young lady?¡±


    ¡­Huh?


    What kind of cryptic nonsense was that?


    Of course, I see things, you idiot!


    He leaned in slightly. ¡°Something blue, perhaps?¡±


    My eyes widened.


    Holy¡ª


    He read my mind.


    There was no other explanation.


    But how could I tell him that I did see it? My baby tongue was still tragically useless.


    Think, Lina, think.


    Then my eyes landed on the papers and crayons scattered on the table nearby.


    Yes! That¡¯s it!


    I reached out, letting out an innocent little baby hum.


    Romeo got the message and carried me over, settling me onto his lap.


    Time for a miracle.


    Drawing.


    I gripped the crayon with all the strength my pudgy fingers could muster and got to work.


    First¡ªa stickman. Broad shoulders. Buff. That was Romeo.


    Then¡ªI added blue mist around him.


    By the time I finished, I was exhausted.


    But I did it.


    I lifted my tiny head to Romeo, seeking his reaction.


    His jaw dropped.


    Sweat glistened on his forehead.


    Then, after a long pause, he let out a soft, disbelieving chuckle.


    ¡°¡­Oh my God¡­¡±


    He exhaled, shaking his head before whispering in awe¡ª


    ¡°The Young Lady is an Awakener.¡±


    I arched a brow.


    Huh? An Awakener?


    What the heck did that even mean?


    Elaborate, New Uncle!


    Don¡¯t just drop a cryptic line and then stare at me all lovingly like that!


    I flailed my tiny arms and kicked my little legs, trying to demand answers.


    But did he acknowledge my frustration?


    No.


    Instead, he kept holding me absentmindedly, lost in his own thoughts.


    Romeo! Focus! Explain!


    Alas, my efforts were in vain.


    Neglect.


    Bruno returned, carrying two plates of whatever deliciousness he¡¯d just cooked up, and instead of indulging my curiosity¡ª


    They both started eating.


    And talking.


    About.


    Krow.


    Again.


    For the first time since my reincarnation, I was not the center of attention.


    Did they dare?!


    Yeah¡­


    They dared.


    I hummed.


    I tugged at Romeo¡¯s beard.


    I even threw in some cute baby noises.


    Still. Nothing.


    ¡­Truly, a tragedy.

 Chapter 3: Happy Birthday

    "Happy Birthday, Lily!"


    A chorus of cheers washed over me as I once again reclaimed my rightful place¡ª


    The center of attention.


    Yes, bask in my glory, peasants.


    A gaggle of well-dressed ladies cooed, their eyes practically sparkling as they fawned over me. A group of distinguished gentlemen chuckled, each taking turns hoisting me into the air like I was some kind of prized potato at an auction.


    Sure, the admiration was nice and all¡­ but could they maybe not treat me like a glorified sack of flour?!


    Apparently, turning one year old was a big deal in this world.


    This whole extravaganza¡ªwhat my parents called a "birthday party"¡ªwas meant to celebrate the monumental achievement of surviving 365 days as a tiny human.


    Geez, as if I had a say in the matter.


    Most guests were utterly obsessed with my heterochromatic eyes and two-toned hair¡ªpredicting I''d become a heartbreaker in the future.


    Some even had the audacity to suggest I be "saved" for their sons.


    ¡­Huh?


    Saved?


    What was I, a sword to be inherited?


    Then again¡­ if I already had a lineup of future fianc¨¦s, that could be hilarious.


    I''d get to crush their dreams one by one¡ªmetaphorically speaking, of course.


    At least for now.


    Wait a second¡ª


    I was a guy in my past life. What if I still liked girls?


    That would make me gay, wouldn''t it?!


    And I refuse to be gay! Not in this life! Not in a million lives!


    ¡­Ugh, thinking about it will always give me a headache.


    Whatever. Never mind. Moving on.


    The best part of birthdays?


    Presents.


    A mountain of them.


    Here''s hoping this shower of affection becomes a yearly tradition.


    As I gazed at the sheer love and warmth radiating from my parents and their friends, I had a revelation.


    Maybe¡­ just maybe¡­


    Cuteness was the most powerful weapon in this world.


    Sure, the path of an assassin was still an option¡­


    But don''t get your hopes up just yet.


    "Happy birthday, young lady!"


    Romeo''s deep, warm voice rumbled through the air as he stepped forward, a grin stretched across his rugged face. "I hope you''ll enjoy this simple gift from me."


    A simple gift, huh?


    Considering the sheer avalanche of presents I''d already received, one more wouldn''t hurt. But Romeo''s presence alone made this one stand out¡ªbecause unlike everyone else in this room, he radiated that strange, mist-like energy.


    Yeah. That still needed an explanation.


    Note to self: investigate later.


    For now, I focused on the two towering men in my life.


    Bruno, my dear father, was elegant, lean, and composed.


    Romeo, on the other hand? A walking fortress.


    His well-tailored suit barely contained his broad shoulders and thick arms, muscles shifting like rolling boulders beneath the fabric.


    No offense, Bruno, but in the testosterone department? Your brother wins. Hands down.


    With practiced ease, Romeo lifted a delicate silver necklace.


    Dangling from the chain was a colorless sphere, about the size of a raspberry.


    It wasn''t glass. It wasn''t crystal.


    The material shimmered faintly¡ªyet at the same time, it felt... empty.


    What is this?


    Before I could analyze it further, Romeo gently clasped the necklace around my neck.


    And then¡ª


    The entire room gasped.


    Loudly.


    A wave of hushed whispers spread through the crowd like wildfire. Some guests gawked openly, their hands flying to their mouths. Others exchanged uneasy glances, their polite smiles faltering.


    Uh. Did I just trigger a doomsday prophecy or something?


    I mean, come on. This was my day, right? My first birthday. Shouldn''t I, the birthday girl, be the first to know what the fuss was about?


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    I turned to Elza, searching for answers.


    She opened her mouth¡ªthen snapped it shut.


    Her gaze flickered between me and the necklace, something unreadable flashing in her eyes. But beneath the initial shock, there was a spark of pride.


    She turned sharply to Romeo, her jaw clenched, as if silently demanding an explanation.


    I followed her gaze to my uncle.


    Romeo only nodded.


    Slowly. Deliberately. A soft smile playing on his lips.


    Bruno, ever the stoic figure, simply ruffled my hair. Just once. A single, hesitant stroke.


    Warm. Gentle.


    Yet his eyes?


    Widely opened. Slightly shaking. Worried.


    Through the sea of guests, a woman in a stunning red dress pushed forward, nearly spilling the glass of red wine in her hand.


    Heh. Careful, lady. That looks expensive.


    Her striking features almost mirrored Elza''s, though her expression was more... intense.


    "Romeo," she pressed, her voice tight with barely contained excitement. "You don''t think¡­?"


    She trailed off, letting the unspoken question hang in the air.


    Romeo nodded, "The Flow," he said at last, his deep voice cutting through the murmurs. "I could sense it in her every time I visited."


    He glanced at me, his expression unreadable.


    "No... not just that. She felt it in me the moment we met."


    He exhaled, shaking his head slightly, as if still processing it himself.


    "The Young Lady¡­ it''s clear. She''s going to bloom as a Flow wielder."


    Another collective gasp rippled through the room.


    This time, it wasn''t just shock¡ªit was awe.


    The energy in the room shifted. Some guests exchanged wide-eyed glances, while others stared at me with newfound reverence.


    Flow.


    In this world, magic was a fairy tale, something scoffed at. But the Flow¡ªthat was real. The very lifeblood of all extraordinary abilities.


    And apparently, I had it.


    The blue mist I''d seen swirling in and around Romeo¡ªwas that the Flow?


    Interesting.


    A strange warmth bloomed in my chest. A feeling of familiarity, like something long forgotten stirring awake.


    For the first time that evening, something about this party felt worth celebrating.


    Thank you, Romeo.


    The woman in red turned sharply to my parents, her excitement making her grip on the wine even more precarious.


    Lady, I swear, one more sudden movement and that dress is done for.


    "Congratulations, Elza! And Bruno!" she beamed, her smile stretching ear to ear. "Your daughter is one of the two per thousand! And at such I young age!"


    A ripple of reactions followed.


    "Yeah, I wish her all the luck in the world!" called out one man from the crowd.


    Another raised his glass high, his voice ringing clear, "Here''s to Lina''s path! May it be a great one!"


    "Cheers!"


    Glasses clinked, voices cheered, the energy celebratory.


    But me?


    I was still stuck on that number.


    Two per thousand.


    So the Flow was that rare?


    The realization sent a chill down my spine.


    Sure, this was amazing news. Having Flow meant potential¡ªpower. It made me someone special.


    But... I didn''t want to be special.


    Not in this life.


    I''d already been exceptional once before, and let''s just say¡­ happiness hadn''t exactly come packaged with it.


    I just wanted to live normally this time.


    I glanced at the faces around me¡ªthe admiration, the awe, the expectations.


    Yeah. Something told me that wouldn''t be happening.


    Great. A shift in the narration. Just what I needed.


    And, as expected, my life took a turn.


    A subtle shift, but significant nonetheless.


    My parents still loved me dearly, but their focus had undeniably changed.


    Now, everything seemed to revolve around the Flow.


    They swapped out my usual bedtime stories for children''s books about Flow. Cartoons with Flow-wielding heroes dominated my playtime. They even tried slipping educational Flow programs into my routine¡ªas if brainwashing a one-year-old was going to yield results.


    Cute effort, Mom and Dad. But neither of you even has Flow.


    Still, their excitement was endearing.


    Then there was Romeo.


    His visits became more frequent, more personal. He''d sit with me, sharing glimpses of his life as a Flow wielder. His words carried experience, wisdom, and something else¡ªcuriosity.


    Curiosity that often lingered on my necklace.


    Like, dude, what exactly are you expecting? A surprise transformation? A color change? Did he already regret giving it to me?!


    Sorry, buddy. Gifts are non-refundable.


    But through our conversations, I began piecing together the key difference between the Flow and magical energy.


    In my previous world, magic was as natural as breathing. It saturated the air, pulsed through creatures, and lived within humans as an innate reserve.


    Magic was like a well of power inside you¡ªsomething you could cultivate through meditation, absorbing the ambient mana to expand your reserves. Skilled mages could even manipulate external mana, weaving it into their own, creating more potent spells with the right incantations.


    Speaking of which, spellcasting was an art.


    Most spells required recitation¡ªritualistic, poetic, and, frankly, kind of badass. Sure, it was a bit slow, but there was something undeniably charming about it.


    Then there were affinities.


    Each person had a natural bond to a specific element¡ªfire, water, earth, lightning, and so on. The greater one''s magical reserves, the stronger their affinity became.


    In my previous life, I was a nobody to the unknowing eye.


    No surge of magic, no flicker of power. Just a man who seemed utterly ordinary.


    But that was the greatest deception of all.


    I did possess magical energy¡ªmore than most, in fact. But unlike others, mine was undetectable.


    The reason?


    My affinity¡ªEmptiness.


    It was an exception, an unclassified power beyond even the most revered S-rank affinities.


    Magic was supposed to be seen, felt, sensed. But mine? It was a void. A black hole that swallowed perception itself.


    It wasn''t just defensive¡ªit was absolute control over the very environment.


    I could bend gravity with a thought, snuff the air from a room, drown a battlefield in a vacuum, and wield the unseen as both blade and armor.


    And the true strength of Emptiness?


    Its unpredictability.


    Enemies couldn''t react to what they couldn''t perceive. No chants to decipher. No elemental traces to follow. No glowing spells telegraphing my attacks.


    By the time they realized they were dying, it was already too late.


    Add to that my early years of relentless training, my life spent walking in the shadows, and well¡­


    That''s how I became the greatest assassin in history.


    Flow, however, operates on an entirely different principle than magical energy.


    Unlike mana, which saturates the air, the earth, and every living thing, Flow is selective. It resides only within specific beings and objects, granted at birth or imbued through unknown means.


    A Flow user can draw from their own internal reserves, but the real strength of Flow?


    It lies in borrowing power from the world itself.


    To do this, one must rely on an intricate network within their body¡ªFlow Circuits. These circuits, similar to blood vessels, circulate Flow throughout a user''s system. But their true potential comes when they are extended outward, reaching beyond the body like invisible threads.


    Touch the ground, and you connect to its Flow. Reach out to an object, and you borrow its power. Most beginners start by drawing Flow through their legs, grounding themselves to the earth. A stable foundation, yes¡ªbut a fatal weakness in battle due to the lack of mobility.


    The downside? Flow doesn''t replenish through meditation like mana. No quiet focus to restore your reserves¡ªonly time can heal a depleted Flow. Artifacts can accelerate recovery, but patience remains the ultimate remedy.


    Unlike magic users, Flow wielders aren''t bound by affinities. They adapt, shaping their power to fit their combat style. But there''s a catch¡ªunlike mages who summon fire from thin air, Flow users need contact. Want to bend the earth? You must touch the ground. Want to manipulate water? Your Flow must connect to it.


    But there was something that didn''t add up.


    They say Flow exists only in tangible things. If so, why does fire¡ªa mere chemical reaction¡ªpossess it? Water has Flow¡­ but what about vapor?


    Romeo''s words were firm, "Vapor, air, light, any intangible thing, and most of chemical reactions lack Flow."


    But how could that be?


    Contradictions. Mysteries. Gaps in logic that no one else seemed to question.


    But I would.


    I would unravel the secrets of Flow¡ªno matter what it took.

 Chapter 4: Unleash Your Flow

    Listen up, everyone! Etch these words into your thick skulls!


    Lina Lapis. Two years old. Supposedly still in my "years of innocence."


    ¡­Yeah, not so innocent anymore.


    Why? I can crawl, baby! And let me tell you, this newfound mobility? A game-changer.


    At first, my parents found it adorable¡ª"Oh, look at her go!"¡ªbut that didn''t last long. I quickly became their tiny, unstoppable nightmare. If there was something to poke, prod, climb, or chew on, you bet I was on it. The world was mine to explore!


    And crawling? Pfft. Easy. As natural as scratching my diaper.


    Oh. Wait. Did I just soil my diaper¡­?


    *Sniff sniff*


    Nah. Still good. Moving on.


    Now, I know what you''re thinking¡ª"Lina, you''re just two! Shouldn''t you be entertained by colorful blocks or whatever?"


    Nah. My curiosity about Flow and all that mystical blah blah blah wasn''t shutting down anytime soon. And since Romeo was too busy to drop knowledge bombs, and my parents'' books were starting to repeat themselves, I needed a new source of intel.


    A few artifacts in our house stood out.


    First up, Elza''s phone. She was practically glued to the thing, chatting away in an endless stream of grown-up nonsense. Sadly, it was always too close to her, making any independent research mission impossible.


    Then there was Dad''s mysterious computer. Now that thing looked promising. Big, flashy, and obviously packed with secrets.


    Except¡­ it was ridiculously complicated.


    So many buttons. A weird little pad thing that made an arrow float around the screen like some kind of ghost¡­


    I swear, summoning an actual demon would be easier than figuring out this contraption.


    Thus, I was left with one intriguing option.


    The magical, wall-mounted screen.


    Remember that thing I mentioned a while back? Yeah, that.


    Most people call it a TV, but let''s be real¡ªit was basically a window to infinite knowledge. A superior alternative to Elza''s guarded phone and Dad''s demonic button-box (aka, his computer).


    And the best part? It came with a supporting artifact.


    The Remote Control.


    Unlike the arcane monstrosity that was Dad''s keyboard, this majestic device had far fewer buttons. Simpler. More intuitive. Sure, a regular two-year-old might struggle with it, but hello? I had nearly 30 years of experience. (Granted, 28 of them were in a previous life, but details, details.)


    This TV thing was a goldmine of channels.


    News, cartoons, sports, mind-numbing reality shows¡­ If you wanted to rot your brain or sharpen it, there was a channel for that.


    And I? I found mine.


    Forget those sickeningly sweet kids'' shows filled with bouncing mascots and annoying singalongs. Ash Wyvern would never stoop so low. Not in this life, not in any life.


    No, my choice was far superior.


    I stumbled upon a channel dedicated to Flow.


    And that''s where I met my first Flow instructor.


    Marcus Blazehurt.


    Oh, Marcus¡­ How do I even begin to describe him?


    He had the energy of a sugar-rushed kid, the theatrics of a stage magician, and the fashion sense of a man who lost a bet. At times, I was convinced I was more mature than him¡ªdespite my current state of tiny, squishy adorableness.


    But hey¡ªif he had Flow wisdom to share, I was all ears.


    So, with a determined gleam in my eyes, I cranked up the volume, planted myself firmly on the floor, and locked onto Marcus like a hawk.


    Let the learning commence!


    "Greetings, Flow enthusiasts! Welcome back to another episode of Unleash Your Flow! Today, we''re venturing beyond the studio walls"¡ªMarcus boomed, his voice practically vibrating the screen¡ª"to bring you something truly special.


    Buckle up! Because today, we''re diving into the fascinating world of manipulating external Flow! But before we unleash the secrets..."


    He winked conspiratorially, his grin dripping with mischief as he left the sentence hanging. "Here''s a short ad, so stay tuned!"


    ...Winking? Unleash Your Flow?


    I grimaced.


    Cringe.


    Blugh.


    This man¡­ why was he like this?


    Pushing past my secondhand embarrassment, I refocused on the screen once the ad ended. Marcus pressed his right hand against a rough bark of a towering tree, his gaze locked onto the camera.


    "See this beauty right here?" He gave the trunk a firm pat. "Trees, like all things¡ªexcept most humans and animals¡ªpossess their own Flow. And with a simple touch..."


    His fingers dug into the bark. A low hum pulsed through the screen.


    "I can establish a connection between my Flow circuits and the tree. Now, its power becomes an extension of mine."


    Raising his left hand, he threw a brief glance at it¡ªclearly milking the moment for drama.


    "And get this... I don''t even need direct contact."


    A grin stretched across his face, the kind of grin that screamed ''I know something you don''t.''


    And then¡ªhis bare left hand started to change.


    Its skin darkened to a deep green. From his very flesh, verdant branches sprouted, twisting and curling into existence. Gnarled roots coiled like veins, extending from his arm like living wood.


    I placed a hand under my chin, narrowing my eyes.


    Hmm.


    This wasn''t conjuration. Nothing had appeared out of thin air. Instead, the Flow from the tree had merged with his own body, reshaping it.


    Marcus flexed his new, bark-covered fingers. "My circuits remain linked, allowing me to manipulate the Flow of this tree."


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    I frowned.


    Wait.


    That''s not what Romeo said.


    That''s not what my parents said.


    Those three insisted on one fundamental rule: "You can''t create from nothing."


    And yet, here was Marcus, casually turning his flesh into a botanical masterpiece.


    A beat of silence.


    Marcus, still holding his cool-guy pose, let the moment hang.


    I squinted at the screen, my patience wearing thin.


    Okay, enough with the dramatic pauses, Marcus. I know you have the answer, so spit it out already!


    At freaking last! Marcus''s voice boomed with enthusiasm, his eyes glinting with mischief as he resumed his demonstration.


    "The most common application," he declared, his tone dripping with showmanship, "is manipulating the Flow within an object!"


    The moment his words hit the air, the tree shuddered. Leaves rippled and tumbled, a flurry of green cascading down like rain. The once-sturdy branches, stretching toward the sky, twitched¡ªthen writhed.


    And then, they moved.


    They bent and twisted, coiling like serpents, their shapes shifting, merging, reshaping¡ªuntil, before my eyes, the gnarled mass of wood solidified into a massive walking stick, its surface rough yet unmistakably crafted with precision.


    I gasped.


    No chants, no spells, no flashy magic circles¡ªjust pure Flow manipulation.


    Marcus grinned, "See?" His voice brimmed with amusement. "By manipulating the Flow within an object, I can reshape it at will! A simple giant walking stick for a simple demonstration, wouldn''t you agree?"


    I barely heard him. My mind was still reeling.


    Flow could do this?


    Marcus chuckled as if watching my stunned reaction. "Curious, aren''t you?" He leaned in slightly, his grin widening. "How did I conjure those roots in my left hand without it directly touching the tree? How did I transform this towering giant into a simple walking stick?"


    His fingers drummed against the wooden staff as he paused for effect. Then, with a smirk, he answered his own question.


    "The answer lies in the very essence of Flow manipulation. By connecting my Flow circuits with the tree, I wasn''t just altering its form, I was coaxing its Flow to intertwine with mine!"


    The moment Marcus''s hand pulled away from the tree, the verdant glow flickered and faded. The roots coiled back, dissolving into nothing, and his skin returned to normal¡ªas if the transformation had never happened.


    But I had seen it.


    My heart pounded. This¡­ This Flow¡ªit wasn''t magic.


    It was something else entirely. A connection. A silent exchange, a harmony between the user and the world around them.


    Marcus began pacing, hands clasped behind his back, his expression thoughtful yet brimming with excitement.


    "Every object, every being attuned to Flow¡ªeven Flow-Beasts¡ªpossesses something unique," he said, gesturing to the tree. "A distinct signature of Flow."


    I leaned in, absorbing every word.


    "This signature is like a fingerprint, one that cannot be forged easily." His fingers trailed over the bark, eyes glinting with amusement. "By introducing just a sliver of this tree''s Flow into my own circuits, I extended my reach¡ªcoaxing it to respond, to manifest in a form you could see."


    Ah¡­ so that''s why his hand had turned green.


    Marcus lifted a finger, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "But here''s the real question! As you all know, the body has a set capacity for Flow." He let his words hang, waiting for the weight of them to settle. "So how did I manage to absorb the tree''s Flow without overloading my circuits?"


    A long pause. Then¡ª


    His smile turned mischievous. "The answer is deceptively simple. It''s all about exchange."


    His fingers snapped, and I nearly flinched.


    "I didn''t just take Flow¡ªI gave some of my own." He tapped his chest lightly. "A tendril of my Flow reached into the tree, nudging it to release a sliver of its own back into me. And with that tiny thread connecting us, I gained leverage."


    Suddenly, Marcus''s expression darkened, his playful air vanishing in an instant.


    A cold shiver ran down my tiny spine. Maybe wearing only a diaper wasn''t enough after all.


    ...


    ...


    Oi, oi, what''s with the murderous aura?! I know I used to be the greatest assassin in Gloria, but I''m two years old now! If I lost my hard-earned balance and face-planted because of your death glare, would you take responsibility, huh?!


    "There''s a crucial aspect of Flow exchange you must never overlook," Marcus finally intoned, his voice low and foreboding as he reached back to fix his black ponytail.


    Damn, even his hair adjustments felt dramatic.


    "Some individuals may attempt to forcefully absorb external Flow without offering their own in return." His sharp eyes gleamed, slicing through the screen as if staring straight into my soul. "Do not entertain such reckless thoughts."


    I swallowed.


    "This results in what we call Overload."


    "Overload occurs when the Flow Circuits are overwhelmed beyond their natural capacity. At best, you''ll suffer immediate exhaustion, losing control over the very Flow you sought to command. At worst..." He let the silence drag for maximum effect. "Your circuits could rupture entirely, rendering you incapable of manipulating Flow ever again. Or worse... you die."


    ...Gulp.


    "Unlike non-Flow users, we wielders share a unique bond with Flow itself. It is a part of us, woven into our very being. Too much or too little¡ªeither can be fatal. I trust you will remember th¡ª"


    **PFFFT¡ª! The screen went black.


    ...Huh?


    What?


    WHAT?!


    My tiny fists clenched. My mouth dropped into a disbelieving pout.


    Who did this?!


    WHO DARED TO CUT OFF MY SHOW?!


    My furious gaze swept across the room¡ªuntil I spotted the culprit.


    There he stood. Bruno. Remote control clutched in hands.


    Oh, BRUNO.


    So it was YOU.


    You... You remote-thieving betrayer!


    GIVE IT BACK!


    Of course, I couldn''t actually say that.


    And my limbs? Still too short, too wobbly to wrestle the remote away from Bruno''s hands.


    Instead, all I could do was let out a frustrated gurgle¡ªthe universal cry of helpless infants everywhere.


    Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic.


    Bruno chuckled, though there was no real amusement behind it. A nervous laugh. The kind that didn''t quite reach his eyes.


    Before I could protest further, he scooped me up with gentle but firm hands and carried me toward my tiny, wooden prison¡ªthe crib.


    The bars loomed around me, caging me in like a captive princess. And yet¡­ as Bruno placed me down, something flickered in his gaze.


    Fear.


    Was he¡­ afraid of me?


    Over a mere outburst?


    Maybe if I played the helpless baby card a little longer, he''d give in. Pity is a weapon too, after all.


    With a sigh, I turned my head away dramatically, pretending to sulk, hoping for a comforting coo or maybe even an apology.


    But when I peeked back¡­


    He was still there.


    His hand hovered near the bars, hesitating. His red-rimmed eyes betrayed something heavier than simple worry. He opened his mouth to speak¡ªthen hesitated again, his lips pressing into a thin line.


    The silence stretched.


    And then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he spoke:


    "I know you might not understand my words¡­ and that''s exactly why I''m telling you now."


    His voice cracked slightly. A tremor ran through him¡ªone he tried to hide.


    His calloused hand brushed my hair, the roughness so different from the soft toys they''d given me to make my childhood bright and innocent.


    "If you awaken as a Flow practitioner, your fate is already set, Lily."


    My breath caught.


    "That means you''ll be different. Separated from us in a way¡ªnot physically, perhaps, but¡­ your life will be one of duty, of protecting us, our country."


    He exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening ever so slightly against the crib''s wooden frame.


    "I know most kids dream of adventures, but as your father¡­"


    A pause. A sigh.


    Bruno leaned down, pressing a kiss to my forehead. Warm. Gentle. Fleeting.


    "As your father, I don''t want you to see the darkness, Lily." His voice dropped lower, as if speaking of something forbidden. "The grudges held by those who live in the shadows¡­ things I can''t explain."


    "But¡­"


    His grip on the bars eased.


    "Fate wants you to see it."


    He pulled away, and suddenly, the warmth he left on my skin felt too distant.


    His eyes softened, his voice steadying as he whispered his final words:


    "Still, whatever path you choose, Lily¡­ your mother and I will be proud."


    Then¡ªhe left.


    The door clicked shut behind him.


    Leaving me alone.


    In the darkness.


    Yet, even in the quiet, his words echoed.


    Damn it.


    Now I was really mad that I had consciousness at two years old.


    He never meant for me to understand those words.


    ¡­I''m sorry about that, Bruno.


    Between Bruno''s worried words and the intels I''d picked up in recent days, the picture was clear.


    They were afraid.


    Not just of Flow. Of what it meant for me.


    Unlike them, I possessed Flow¡ªa double-edged sword that could elevate me to greatness or drag me to ruin. With only two in a thousand born with it, Flow wasn''t just rare. It was power. A coveted, dangerous force that dictated one''s place in the world.


    And power like that? It never went unnoticed.


    Romeo''s warnings slithered through my thoughts.


    "Flow-runners lurk in the shadows, sniffing out ''potentially'' gifted children. Some are taken. Some are never seen again."


    The idea of being hunted down, stolen away, sold like an artifact in some black-market auction¡ªI didn''t need to guess. That fear was already carved into my parents'' hearts.


    And it wasn''t just the threat of abduction.


    A hierarchy existed¡ªan entire system built around Flow-users.


    While normal children basked in the warmth of family, laughed with friends, lived their days carefree¡­


    People like me?


    We stood at the crossroads of isolation and exploitation.


    The moment my abilities fully awakened, my life would be dictated by training, expectations, and battles I never asked for. I wouldn''t get to choose whether I was extraordinary or not. The world would decide that for me.


    Greatness always comes at a price.


    Loneliness. Duty. The suffocating weight of expectations.


    ...It was a familiar feeling.


    A past life stolen from me. A blade in the dark. Blood on my hands.


    But even amid the uncertainty, even with the looming threat of being consumed by this power¡­


    A small ember flickered inside me.


    Perhaps Flow wasn''t just a curse.


    Perhaps¡ªit was an opportunity.


    A chance to carve out a destiny beyond the chains of fate. A path not dictated by fear, but by my own will.


    And maybe, just maybe¡­


    It could lead me to the truth behind my assassination.


    My grip tightened.


    Dangerous? Absolutely.


    But if Flow held the key to unraveling everything¡ªthen I had no choice but to see how far it could take me.

 Chapter 5: Flow Be In The Air

    Days turned into weeks, weeks into months¡­ Months into¡­ whatever.


    Look, you¡¯re not an idiot. You get the point. Time passed.


    Anyway¡ª


    Before I knew it, I was nearly four. Three years and six months old! A real milestone, huh? But honestly, age was just a number to me. What really mattered was proving to the world how amazing I was.


    Take my walking skills, for example. My first steps were a wobbly, almost tragic performance, but they were celebrated like I had just invented movement itself. Cheers, claps, the whole works. And now? Crawling was a thing of the past. I could roam the house with the freedom I deserved.


    Man, have I missed using my legs like this!


    And speaking of independence¡ªguess who was finally tackling the bathroom situation all by herself?


    ¡­Okay, maybe 40%.


    Fine, 35%.


    Look, let¡¯s not dwell on the occasional, uh¡­ setbacks. Progress is progress!


    But the real achievement? Dressing myself.


    Shirts, skirts, bandanas¡ªyou name it, I could (eventually) put it on. Sure, Elza could do it faster, but speed isn¡¯t everything! I was getting better.


    At this rate, give me another month, and I might even be able to tie my shoes without adult intervention.


    Now that¡¯s real growth!


    ¡­Right?


    Heh.


    Just wait until they hear about my next big achievement!


    After what felt like an eternity, I had finally mastered my tongue. My words flowed smoothly now¡ªswift, light, and crisp like a freshly sharpened blade.


    Naturally, I kept this milestone a top-secret from my parents. Had to make a dramatic reveal, after all.


    So, one sunny Sunday, I marched right up to them on my own two feet, ready to make history.


    And what did I find?


    Bruno, hunched over his laptop, completely glued to the screen. Elza, her fingers a blur, scrolling at Mach speed through her phone.


    Bruh.


    Seriously, guys? Too much screen time! Priorities, please. You have something far more important to focus on.


    Me.


    So, naturally, I took matters into my own tiny hands.


    I snapped Bruno¡¯s laptop shut¡ªthe audible clap making him jump. Then, with expert-level precision, I snatched Elza¡¯s phone mid-scroll.


    You should¡¯ve seen her face. Absolute shock.


    And just like that, I had their full attention.


    I cleared my throat delicately (with a very cute, fist-over-mouth ¡°ahem¡±), then, with the utmost seriousness, I declared:


    "Mother! Father! There is something I wish to say!"


    The words tumbled out¡ªclear, confident, refined. Sure, a few tricky sounds still gave me trouble, but their jaws hitting the floor was proof enough that I¡¯d just broken reality as they knew it.


    Oh, what a glorious feeling! My stomach practically tickled with triumph!


    Bruno¡¯s eyes bulged like saucers, a choked laugh escaping his lips. Elza gasped, her hands flying to her mouth, tears welling in her eyes.


    They looked at each other, then back at me, as if I had just revealed the secrets of the universe.


    "Since when could you speak like this, Lily?!" Bruno asked, hastily pulling off his protective glasses and swapping them for his regular ones. His voice wavered with emotion.


    "Yesterday, you barely managed twenty words a day! And now you¡¯re speaking in full, complex phrases?!"


    I giggled¡ªa high-pitched, musical sound that even surprised me. Then, grinning mischievously, I stuck my tongue out and declared:


    "See? Big words for little me!"


    Then, for the grand finale, I puffed out my chest with mock importance, raising my chin ever so slightly.


    "That does not necessitate further explanation, dear Father!"


    "There''s something I wanted to check with you!" I announced, swinging my tiny arms from my seat. "Is it really true that there¡¯s no Flow in the atmosphere?"


    Bruno, who had been rubbing his eyes from too much screen time, froze mid-motion.


    "You¡­ do know we have no relation to Flow, right?" His voice was cautious, as if afraid I was about to say something mind-breaking. He glanced at Elza, then back at me, his brows furrowing. "But I do remember Romeo mentioning that Flow doesn¡¯t exist in air or atmosphere¡­ So, yeah. That¡¯s the general understanding."


    He set his laptop aside, his face still caught between bafflement and curiosity. Then, with a small, affectionate smile, he opened his arms, inviting me in.


    Naturally, I accepted.


    Now, don¡¯t get me wrong, I love Elza tons! But there¡¯s just something about being scooped up by Bruno that hits differently. Maybe it¡¯s because he¡¯s, well, Bruno.


    (¡­Or maybe because he¡¯s a whole different gender, but that¡¯s a mystery for another day.)


    I nestled comfortably in his lap, his broad, steady hand stroking my hair. The warmth was soothing, like a weighted blanket of safety.


    "That''s strange," I mumbled, half-distracted by the delicious sable cookie Elza had left within my reach. "If there''s no Flow in the air, then how come I can see it?"


    Silence.


    I mean, I definitely wasn¡¯t mistaken.


    That misty, dense texture? I had already analyzed it when watching Romeo wield his Flow. It swirled around trees, clung faintly to rocks¡ªit was everywhere.


    And the kicker?


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    It wasn¡¯t just isolated to objects. It floated. All around me. A faint, grayish-white mist that drifted lazily through the air.


    I finished the cookie with a satisfied hum, but my question lingered in the air, heavier than before.


    No response.


    I tilted my head back, my big, innocent eyes locking onto theirs.


    Bruno and Elza, who had barely recovered from my earlier vocabulary flex, were now staring at me as if I had just revealed the secrets of the universe.


    Their jaws? Dropped.


    Their eyes? Wide.


    Their synchronized, utterly stunned reaction?


    "Excuse me?!"


    Their voices blended in perfect harmony, equal parts shock and disbelief.


    Huh. Was it really that surprising?


    Well, I sort of understood why they were so shocked.


    According to Romeo, awakening Flow wasn¡¯t just about gaining a cool power¡ªit came with a package deal of weirdness.


    First off, the pendant on my necklace was supposed to light up in a certain color once my Flow awakened. Apparently, that color meant¡­ something important. But Romeo had been frustratingly vague about what that something was.


    Which is why, some days ago, I decided to check for myself.


    I took a peek at my pendant, and guess what? It had turned white.


    Not just any white¡ªthe same dense, misty white I could see floating all around me.


    At first, I wasn¡¯t sure what to make of it. But now?


    Might as well drop the bombshell.


    I lifted the pendant, grinning. "Look! It became white!"


    ...


    No reaction.


    Bruno squinted, eyes narrowing in confusion. "Lily," he said carefully, "I see the pendant, but it¡¯s still clear. Just like it¡¯s always been."


    Huh?


    I blinked. What?


    Elza gave me a concerned look, echoing his arched brows, then shook her head.


    What.


    No way.


    It¡¯s literally glowing white, right here in my hand!


    Romeo said that anyone could see it if it changed color! Even non Flow weilders.


    A knot of frustration twisted in my stomach. Were they messing with me?


    "But it is white!" I insisted, my voice trembling slightly. "It¡¯s full of white light! You have to see it!"


    Nothing.


    They just kept staring at me like I was hallucinating.


    I clenched my tiny fists, swallowing down the bizarre feeling that I had just lied¡ªwhen I knew I hadn¡¯t.


    I took a slow breath. Okay. Fine. Moving on.


    The second thing about awakening Flow?


    I had become hyperaware of it. Not just in myself, but in everything.


    It was everywhere.


    A strange, tingling sensation had settled under my skin, like the entire world had been whispering to me in a language I had only just begun to understand.


    Flow hummed in the furniture, pulsed faintly in the food on my plate, and even danced erratically within the bodies of some people and animals.


    It was like reality itself had gained an extra dimension¡ªa hidden energy field only the chosen could perceive.


    And finally, there was one last piece to the puzzle.


    Romeo had told me that something unusual was supposed to happen.


    Some physical manifestation of my awakening.


    Maybe it would be a surge of Flow bursting out of me.


    Maybe a foreign Flow integrating with my own.


    Or, hell, maybe I¡¯d even go through some bizarre physical transformation mirroring the Flow I absorbed.


    But nothing like that happened.


    Instead¡­


    Something else did.


    I had checked two out of three boxes on Romeo¡¯s "Signs of Flow Awakening" list.


    But the one I did manage¡ªseeing Flow in the atmosphere¡ªwas apparently enough to send my cool uncle into a panic.


    And I do mean a full-blown, running-for-his-life panic.


    The doorbell¡¯s frantic jingle shattered the calm afternoon like a bomb going off.


    Romeo burst through the door.


    No greetings. No dramatic uncle entrance. Just pure, undiluted urgency.


    "There is no Flow in the air, atmosphere, gases, electricity¡ª!"


    His voice was sharp, clipped, like he was trying to convince himself more than anyone else.


    His eyes¡ªthey wouldn¡¯t stop moving.


    They darted all over my body, flickering with a rare kind of intensity.


    And for once, it wasn¡¯t the entertained, doting Romeo I was used to.


    This time, he wasn¡¯t smiling.


    He was afraid.


    A slow, chilling fear.


    ¡°Young Lady.¡± His voice lowered, suddenly formal. ¡°Describe exactly what you¡¯re seeing.¡±


    I hesitated, then nodded, licking my lips. "At first, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me!"


    I took a breath. "It started subtly¡ªa faint shimmer in the air, like heat waves rising from the pavement on a hot day.


    I blinked, thinking it was just my imagination. But it was still there.


    Not quite mist. Not quite fog. But something¡­ luminescent. Alive. It danced everywhere, shifting, swirling.¡±


    A silence settled over the room.


    Romeo¡­ laughed.


    A short, breathy, disbelieving sound.


    ¡°You couldn¡¯t describe how Flow looks any better¡­¡±


    Then, to my shock, he dropped to his knees.


    His intense gaze bore into mine, his eyes filled with something deeper than fear.


    It was like he was searching for something¡ªsomething hidden inside me.


    Then, after a long, suffocating pause¡­


    He simply shook his head.


    Romeo¡¯s hand trembled as he reached for the pendant, his fingers grazing its surface like it might burn him.


    Then, his jaw slackened.


    His entire body stiffened, a shudder rolling through him as if the very air around us had shifted.


    "I... I don''t believe it." His voice cracked, barely above a whisper. "How can this be?"


    My parents exchanged a worried glance.


    Elza¡¯s lips pressed together, unease flickering in her eyes. Bruno, usually the calm one, leaned forward, his gaze darting between me and Romeo like he was trying to piece together a puzzle he didn¡¯t want to solve.


    Romeo exhaled sharply, turning to them, his voice unsteady.


    "The pendant should take on the color of the first Flow the Young Lady absorbs.


    "But this¡ª" His fingers clenched around the pendant, as if holding it tighter would change the impossible reality before him. "¡ªthis pendant isn¡¯t colored at all."


    Silence.


    Then, in a lower, almost reluctant murmur:


    "It¡¯s full of Flow. An invisible Flow." His eyes met mine. "A Flow that only the truly gifted can see."


    A weight settled over the room.


    Elza¡¯s breath hitched. Bruno¡¯s knuckles turned white as he gripped the arms of his chair.


    Romeo continued, his words slow, deliberate.


    "That alone is incredible. But there¡¯s something else. Something¡­ much more concerning."


    A pause. A hesitation. Then¡ª


    "New awakeners are always the same. Their Flow starts as pure white¡­ tinged with faint gray for the exceptionally gifted. It takes years of training¡ªyears of control, experience, and lots more¡ªto unlock your Flow signature, to shape it into something unique to you.


    But the Young Lady¡­¡±


    His gaze flickered to me. "...her Flow signature is already here."


    A deep, slow breath.


    "And it¡¯s pitch-black.


    Obsidian. Heavy. Overwhelming.


    Suffocating."


    No one moved.


    No one spoke.


    The room hung in a fragile silence, thick with tension. Three pairs of eyes bore into me, yet not a single word left their lips. They were still processing it¡ªstill trying to make sense of the impossible.


    As for me?


    My fingers instinctively reached for my necklace, brushing over the smooth surface of the pendant. That white mist inside... That was Flow of the air?


    It clicked.


    No wonder I reacted to it first. It made sense. The air was everywhere. It surrounded me, filled my lungs with every breath, wrapped around me like an invisible embrace. If Flow truly existed in the atmosphere¡ªif it was the very thing I absorbed first¡ªthen of course it would manifest in my pendant.


    But then¡­


    Why was my own Flow black?


    I swallowed. A signature. Romeo had called it my Flow signature. But that wasn¡¯t supposed to happen.


    Awakeners didn¡¯t get their signature right away. It took training, experience¡ªyears of struggle. Yet here I was, barely three and a half, and I already had one?


    No¡­


    Wait a sec.


    If I really thought about it¡ªif I really put the pieces together¡ª


    Hadn¡¯t I already lived through hell?


    Hadn¡¯t I already faced mysteries and hardships far beyond my years?


    Not in this life.


    But in the one before.


    Yeah¡­


    That was the only explanation that made sense. For now.


    Romeo suddenly stood, his expression tense. His fingers twitched as he paced the room, brows furrowed deep in thought.


    ¡°The pendant¡­ It¡¯s practically overflowing with Flow,¡± he murmured, voice laced with uncertainty. ¡°And yet¡­ it¡¯s still colorless.¡±


    His words hung heavy in the air, but honestly? I wasn¡¯t about to let them huddle together and whisper secrets without me.


    Yeah, nah.


    I launched myself forward, wedging right between Elza and Romeo, staking my claim in the conversation. Nice try, guys.


    Romeo barely noticed, too lost in his own mutterings. ¡°It¡¯s bizarre¡­ I can feel the Flow within the pendant¡ªit¡¯s there, undeniably there¡ªbut I can¡¯t see its color.¡± His hand absently brushed against his beard as his gaze flickered between Bruno and Elza.


    ¡°There¡¯s something I want the Young Lady to try¡­ So, can we go to my place?¡± His tone turned firm, his usual casualness giving way to serious intent.


    Elza¡¯s eyes narrowed immediately. ¡°You¡¯re already throwing her into this Flow nonsense? We have enough on our plate as it is¡ª¡±


    ¡°I want to go, Mother.¡±


    My own words cut through hers like a blade.


    She blinked. ¡°You¡­ want to go?¡±


    I nodded without hesitation. ¡°I know I¡¯m still young. Too young, even. But it¡¯s already set in stone, isn¡¯t it? Sooner or later, I¡¯ll have to walk this path.¡±


    I clenched my fists, standing my ground. Better sooner than later.


    If something this powerful was inside me, I needed to understand it. Control it.


    And if my past as Ash Wyvern was truly tied to my Flow signature¡­ then wasn¡¯t this the very life I had lived before?


    I met my parents¡¯ eyes. Waiting. Watching.


    They exchanged glances, silent and uncertain.


    But the answer was clear.


    Bruno exhaled and gave his wife a slow nod. A decision was made.


    Elza sighed, then ruffled my hair, a small, wry smile tugging at her lips.


    ¡°Well¡­ it can¡¯t be helped, then.¡±